


Two Tall Horsemen

by lhunuial



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 16:08:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8452951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lhunuial/pseuds/lhunuial
Summary: “In the forefront of the charge they saw two great horsemen, clad in grey, unlike all the others, and the Orcs fled before them; but when the battle was won they could not be found and none knew whence they came or wither they went. But in Rivendell it was recorded that these were the sons of Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir.”~ HoME Volume 12: The Peoples of Middle Earth





	

**Two Tall Horsemen**

 

_“ In the forefront of the charge they saw two great horsemen, clad in grey, unlike all the others, and the Orcs fled before them; but when the battle was won they could not be found and none knew whence they came or wither they went. But in Rivendell it was recorded that these were the sons of Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir.”_  
~ HoME Volume 12: The Peoples of Middle Earth

 

The day’s hour was late. Arien, the spirit of fire, who carried the vessel of Anar in all her splendour, was already venturing down the heavens. She left it bright red behind her, but the glow would soon darken as Tilion, who carried Ithil’s vessel, rushed through the sky to bring light into the darkness of the night and shine like silver next to the stars of Varda Elentari.

Lothlórien’s woods lay peaceful underneath the evening sky. Its golden leaves shone in the light of the setting sun. Hiding between the trees, invisible to enemy eyes, were the guardians of the northern borders. Their keen elven eyes watched over the fields that lay in front of Lórien and led to Dimrill Dale. The hour was late and this meant that, once the lands were covered with darkness, all sorts of foul creatures would crawl out of the Misty Mountains to threaten that which was fair.

The Galadhrim of the northern borders blended in perfectly with their surroundings, as they sat or stood silently on the talans. Still as statues they seemed, carved delicately out of stone. Yet after a while there moved one. A tall slender Elf clad in elven grey suddenly rose from his seated position and stretched himself, as if he saw something of interest. Another yet freed himself from the cover of the trees. “Rúmil, what sight has roused you?”

The Elf turned his face. “Many Orcs are descending from the Misty Mountains and Mirkwood. They are heading towards Calenardhon.”

Haldir frowned. “Are they approaching Lothlórien?”

“Nay, they run around it. And wait! I see yet more!” Rúmil leaned even further out from the shadows and placed a hand above his eyes to see even better. “The Orcs from the mountains are being slaughtered. It is as if a whirlwind sweeps through them. The foul creatures are fleeing. All is well. Lord Elrond’s sons are here!”

A smile appeared on Haldir’s face. “I might have known.” With a simple movement of his arm he let the other sentinels know all was well. As the grandchildren of the lady Galadriel and the lord Celeborn the two Half Elves were well known to the Galadhrim.

Elladan and Elrohir slowed down their steeds as soon as the mallorn trees of Lothlórien rose in front of them. Great feelings of peace overwhelmed their hearts as they journeyed closer. Swords were sheathed and bows strapped onto their backs. As soon as they reached the woods the twins dismounted and entered. Watchful glances were cast up into the trees. Elladan and Elrohir knew that their presence had not gone unnoticed.

The next moment the brethren were surrounded by grey clad sentinels. Haldir stepped forward and placed a hand on his chest as he bowed. “Ve’dui, sons of Elrond. You have dealt a nice blow to the Orcs.”

Elrohir smiled. “Ve’dui, Haldir.” Then his face became serious again. “I have not seen so many Orcs leaving the pits of Middle Earth for a long time. They are all heading south.”

Haldir motioned the brethren to follow him and they climbed into the trees, while other Galadhrim took care of the horses. Elladan and Elrohir lowered themselves on the talan and wrapped their cloaks around their bodies. Haldir sat in front of them. “The Orcs are all heading towards Calenardhon. Gondor is involved in a battle with them and the wainriders from the east. We’ve had several reports on this from the southern sentinels.”

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged a few glances with their grey eyes, but did not speak to each other. They needed no words to understand what they meant. The youngest of the brethren, who was the most talkative, then looked at Haldir again.

“A battle? How do things stand?”

Haldir drank some water. It took a while before he answered. “According to the reports not very good. They are outnumbered. Messengers have been sent to the North to get aid from the men there.”

The brethren of Imladris looked at each other again. Their hands crept to the hilts of their swords and grabbed them firmly. Their eyes sparkled with determination, anger and battle fever. A stern and grim expression appeared on the fair faces of Elrond’s sons.

Recollections of the Orc attack on their beloved mother, and how the foul creatures tortured her, passed through their minds. The hatred for Orcs that burned inside their hearts was kindled anew and burned fiercer than ever before. They had never vowed on it, as they knew from the times of old how dangerous vows could be, but Elladan and Elrohir secretly had an unspoken promise to enact revenge on every Orc they encountered for their mother’s sake. The Orcs would suffer even more than their mother. Elrond, their father, did not agree with that, but he could not stop them. And now many of the foul Orcs were gathering on the plains of Calenardhon. It was an opportunity too good to miss.  
  
One of the Galadhrim came up to Haldir and they spoke for a while with each other, while throwing glances to the east where a white fog was now building up and distant thunder could be heard. Elladan and Elrohir looked at the Wood Elf and waited for the news. Finally Haldir turned to them. “The Éothéod will soon ride pass Lothlórien. Not too soon either. If they ride hard they will it in time to help Gondor.”  
  
Before Haldir had even finished his sentence the brethren rose to their feet and climbed swiftly down the mallorn. They rushed to their horses and led them out of the woods. Covered by shadow and fog Elladan and Elrohir waited for the Éothéod. The fog was perfect. Now they could join the north men unseen and mingle with them without being noticed.

~***~

 

Covered by fog the Éothéod rode with their éohere* pass the Anduin under Dol Guldur and kept their eyes on the south west. Many of the Riders were half in fear and half in hope to see the land of Dwimordene, the dangerous land from the legends. It was said that it shone like gold in the summer, but now it was covered with shining fog that waved over the lands.  
  
The chieftain of the Éothéod rode up in the front, a tall man with flowing yellow hair. He was fair and young and had a great horn at his side. That was Eorl the Young, the lord of the north men. “Ride on,” he ordered. “We cannot take any other road. We will not be stopped by fog after such a long journey.”  
  
As they came closer they saw how the white fog forced the darkness of Dol Guldur backwards. The éohere rode into the fog, slowly and cautious at first, but soon all things were illuminated by a clear light while they seemed to be protected by white walls. The men were so amazed that they did not notice how two grey figures emerged from the walls and joined their ranks silently.  
  
“The Lady of the Golden Wood is on our side, so it seems,” the messenger from Gondor said.  
  
“Mayhap,” Eorl replied. “In any case I will trust the wisdom of my horse Felaróf. He smells no evil. His heart is merry and his weariness has passed. He is anxious to run free. So be it! Never before have I felt more need to travel fast and unnoticed.”  
  
Felaróf rushed forward and the entire army rushed forwards like a great wind, but in a strange silence as though the hooves of the horses did not touch the ground. Thus they rode on until they made camp for the night.  
  
Eorl and his captains gathered together and listened to the messenger as they looked upon the maps he brought along. It was still a three days ride to Calenardhon, but at least they had not been noticed by any foes thus far.  
  
Apart from the éohere* sat the brethren Elladan and Elrohir, covered by their grey cloaks. They drank of miruvor while they watched the Riders and the horses. They did not speak, not to each other and not to anyone else.  
  
One the third day everyone noticed the fog was gone and they saw wide into the open lands. Faster than ever before the éohere* rushed forward, until they reached the Fields of Celebrant. There the army of Gondor was in danger. They were defeated in the Wold and cut off from the south. The army was chased over the Limlight and attacked by the Orc army that forced the Gondorians towards the Anduin. All hope was lost.

Eorl saw the difficult position of the Gondorian army and responded immediately. He urged Felaróf to run faster ad the white horse did as he was commanded. Felaróf’s head was lifted and its nostrils were wide and red as it neighed.

“For Gondor, Éothéod!!!”

The chieftain of the Riders from the north brought his great horn to his lips and sounded the attack. Nearly seven thousand Riders rushed forward, singing and screaming cries of battle. Eorl and Felaróf were in the front. The blond man unsheathed his sword and charged at the Orcs.

From out of the corner of his eyes he saw two great horsemen riding in the front and he knew them not. They were wholly clad in grey, charging ferociously. The Orcs fled before them into every direction they could think of. But most of them ended up dead, either by sword or by arrow.

Eorl did not have long to wonder about the two strangers, for he involved himself in the battle as well. The Orc army was attacked unexpectedly from the back and fortunes changed. Heavy losses were suffered on the side of the enemy until it was driven back over the Limlight. From there the Orcs fled backwards. Eorl led the chase and so great was the fear of that drove out from the Riders of the North that the invaders of the Wold panicked and the Riders chased them throughout Calenardhon.

Thus the battle of the Fields of Celebrant ended and was won. The Éothéod gathered in the south at the camps of the Gondorians. Eorl inspected his troops and met up with his captains. He remained silent and suddenly remembered the two great horsemen he had seen in the beginning of their attack. Quickly he looked around his troops, but he discovered them not.

Then he consulted his captain. “In the beginning of the battle I saw two tall horsemen fighting at my side. Who are they and where are they now?”

“Alas, my lord,” the men answered. “We have not seen them since the ending of the battle.”

Eorl looked to the north, while he ran his hands through Felaróf’s manes and he sighed. “Such a shame. They were great warriors. I would have wanted to know who they are and whence they came.”

**Author's Note:**

> Éohere: the entire army, full muster, of the Éothéod.


End file.
